The Naked Nap

Never in my life have I thought of myself as a prude, however, I was not slutty by any means.  Fresh out of a five-year relationship I figured the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.  I took my own advice and ran with it like Forrest Gump.  From the edge of Greenbow, Alabama to the Pacific Ocean.  I mean, I went big. 

I met this guy last summer at a function.  We became good friends where he and I would talk about everything.  We shared secrets and drank, and laughed.  It was an easy friendship.  My then boyfriend liked him, they were friendly, and so everything was copasetic with us hanging out.  It got to the point where people around us thought we were going to end up together (as I later learned from one of his friends).  I, at the time, was infatuated with my boyfriend.  There was no way I was leaving him for someone else; even if that other person was awesome. 

Long story short; I got dumped at my friend’s funeral…  In a note… after five years of being together and sharing a home, and going through tough situations, and love, and planning a future.  But I digress.  Back to the story at hand.  (Although, I appreciate the outraged gasps of distain and shocked horror).

Here I am a month after the big break up, and I get a naughty text from my “friend” in which he asked me if I wanted to come over for a naked nap.  I think my face flushed, and my immediate thought was “he’s a jokester!  I should probably shave my legs.”

“Hey you, whatcha doing?”

Me, “nothing whats up?”

“About to take a naked nap.  Wanna join?”

By this point my inner monologue was screaming, “whhhaatt?!?! Of course I do”

“Haha, your silly.  Are you kidding me?”

“No, I'm not kidding you.  Ill be at the bar later tonight.”

In a panic, as I don’t know what to do in a situation that involves nudity and or napping, I call my friend, Cheese, and tell her the whole conversation.  She is engaged and loved to hear about my uncomfortable situation.  So we decided to meet up and have some liquid courage at the local Mexican Restaurant.  As a side note, I am allergic to tequila, but I drink it anyways.  There is no time in life to not drink margaritas.  Keep that in mind when you need some liquid courage before a “naked nap.”

As I sit on the high bar stool, babbling into my drink, receiving naughty texts from him, and turning beet red due to my allergy, my mind is racing.  I don’t know what to do!  I have been out of the game for five years at this point.  I don know whats cool to say, whats not cool to say.  Should I even do this?  What if I'm bad?  What if I missed a spot shaving?  There were so many things going through my mind that I just drank.  A lot.  Probably too much.

I'm just going to go out on a limb and say this, ladies, drinking before potentially sleeping with someone is totally fine.  Just don’t be like me and drink 3 large margaritas when your allergic to the shit, and then meet up with him and proceed to drink beers. 

So now, here we are in the local watering hole, I’m red, I'm drunk, and I’m trying not to stare at his mouth.  He’s sitting there at the end of the bar he smiles at me. And I think I smiled back.  Then I feel my face getting hotter and hotter.  At this point I don know if it’s the tequila or the fact that he is sitting there smiling at me and I can dig it.  So, I did what anyone else would do, I ordered a drink for myself and sat at one of the high topped tables with my friends. 

They all knew what was going on, as they were helping me write back to his naughty messages.  Apparently, he kept looking at me, as my back was to him, I did not see this.  But they did.  And to make things very obvious, they would all lean their heads towards me, their eyes darting behind me and back towards me, they would say, “he’s looking over this way again.”

If nothing else, my friends are good at being secretive or inconspicuous.  Clearly. (Insert sarcasm here).

One by one my friends leave the bar, and there I sit.  Alone, just him, the bartender and me.  I like to think of it as being called a “showdown.”  You know, the last girl in the bar is the one someone is going home with.  Only this time, its not going to be the bartender, and I am that girl sitting there.  We step outside to smoke a cigarette and it’s a little awkward; like a big fat elephant sitting on the stoop with us.

Idle conversation turned into “naked nap” plans. 

Me- “So?”

Him- “So what?” (With a devilish smile)

Me- “Are you kidding me with those texts?”

Him- “You wanna find out?  Come by the house.”

Of course I went to his house!  I shaved for Christ’s sake.  I don’t waste a good shave on someone who’s not going to “nap” with me.  We went back to his house and for the first time we were sitting on the couch and there was nothing to talk about.  Typically when we found ourselves sitting there together, there was always something to be said, always a conversation to be had.  But, now, there we were staring at the television, not saying one word. 

I would guess you could say I was the aggressor.  Plainly, don’t be sexting me naughty things all day long and then sit on the couch without looking at me or saying anything to me. 

Before I knew what was going on, I sensed him looking at me, so I looked back.  I smiled at him and that was all she wrote.  You know that point where you know you’re about to be kissed?  When you stare at their lips, and not into their eyes, and you know it’s going to happen at any moment. 

Then he starts talking.  Seriously?!  Of all the times to be silent, this is one of those times.  Not one word for the past half an hour and now he wants to have a conversation.  I’m sorry, shut up.  I’m trying to look seductively at your face, please, don’t say anything at this moment!

But, as he’s talking he’s getting closer.  Now, he was talking on my lips.  I was getting excited and nothing was happening.  This is where me being the aggressor comes into play.  Thoughts ran through my mind, ‘should I just jump on him?’ ‘Do I let him continue this teasing thing?’ ‘Do I like the teasing thing?’ ‘I kind of like the teasing thing’ ‘Will I look skanky if I just jump on him?’ ‘Do I care at this point?’ ‘God damn tequila’ ‘Fuck it, I’m jumping on him.’

And I did.  And he is a good kisser.  And he has wandering hands, which is always a fun time for me.  So there we are, sitting on his couch, and he’s amazing.  And this is the first time I am kissing someone that’s not my ex.  First kiss in five years from someone other than “him.”

The whole couch foreplay thing lasted about 4 minutes. 

Next thing I know, I’m getting dragged into the bedroom.  Once there, he kisses me again, and then one thing turns into another and I am on the bed, on my back and he is coming down on top of me. 

I don’t think I need to go into the details of everything that occurs once the lights were out and we were in bed.  But I will say this much, twice that night and once in the morning.  And he cuddles!  (I like spooning.)

The next morning we wake up, have sex, get dressed and he makes me coffee.  (Really?!) Yes, really.  I happen to love coffee, and he knows this.  Then he offers to make me breakfast.  I graciously decline, as I don’t know what he could possibly have in his fridge, and if anything, how long it’s been there.  (Oh, the joys of screwing a bachelor who lives in his own home and only food shops when his beers and orange juice supply runs low).

I get home later that morning, after he was packing to go on a trip with some of his boys, and as my car radio died due to a blown fuse, I cursed myself for the entire 3 minute drive home.  I couldn’t believe I had stayed the night with some other man, had sex with him three times, and stayed for coffee in the morning.  I guess it was a good idea to shave after all.